Partners in Crime
by starseeker347
Summary: A collection of one-shots and drabbles. OC centric. All genres. First up: the Elites discover nail polish. Second: a bit of late Christmas fluff. Up next: Soccer! WARNING: DO NOT add Covenant to the mix. Please turn in all plasma weapons at the door.
1. Floursecent Orange and Neon Green

**Author's Note:** I decided to try my hand at humor. Please review and tell me how I've done; I hope you get a laugh out of it. All of the characters (for now) are OCs from my story, Full Circle, but it is not necessary for you to read that in order to understand this. It is a one-shot, but if I get other ideas, I will add them.

Thank you to Exilo for beta reading this.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Halo_.

* * *

Zakl eyed the tiny vial held daintily between the claw of his forefinger and the flesh of his inside thumb doubtfully. Not lowering it from his eye level, he glanced past it, down at the human standing in front of him, holding others just like it.

"And you're positive it won't come off?" he asked skeptically.

"Not once it's dry," Avelyn Anderson reassured him. "You have to use this." She held up a larger bottle with some sort of clear liquid splashing around inside.

The Sangheili clicked his mandibles in thought and finally lowered the vial. "How on Sangheilos are we supposed to get it on? I can barely hold this thing, much less open it."

Avelyn grinned and stepped forward, reaching up and taking it from him. "You make sure she's knocked out for a good hour and _promise to take the blame_, and I'll do the rest."

Zakl grinned crazily back at her. "No problem. When do we start?"

Avelyn shook her head stubbornly. "You promise, Zakl. I don't fancy having a furious Sangheili breathing down my neck. She's scary enough when she's calm, much less after something like this...I don't think even Rydl can keep me safe from her." Her tone brooked no argument. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

The Sangheili heaved a sigh. "I promise your involvement will never be known, may I fall on my blade otherwise," he said solemnly. "Happy?"

The human smiled in confirmation. "Which color do you want?" She gestured to the bed beside her, twelve of the little vials spread across it. Zakl considered them and then plucked one out of the others.

The pair grinned at the ridiculously bright color.

"Somehow, I _knew_ you would pick that one," Avelyn said, gathering up the other vials. "I think Melissa said she got that from her little brother," she continued as she carefully stored the rejected colors away before turning and holding out a hand to take it back. "It's a horrible shade. I don't think she's ever used it."

Zakl handed it over carefully. "Nice doing business with you," Avelyn called cheerfully as the door shut behind his bulk.

XXXXX

Lumeria stalked off of the lift and onto the _Reverent Servant_'s bridge, trying to make her strides look purposeful, not angry, but it wasn't easy. She was _furious_.

Julo Er'Tor quickly vacated her seat, giving her a curious, concerned look. Lumeria forced her features to relax and smiled at him. The major returned the gesture and moved to stand beside her.

"Report?" she asked.

"Everything is normal," he said, turning away and standing at attention, inspecting the bridge and crew. "Oh, there's a message from Ship Master 'Vadum waiting for you."

Lumeria forced herself to relax and her anger down. She knew who was behind this and she swore to hunt him down as soon as her shift was over, imagining how satisfying it would feel to put Zakl's head on a pike. A very soothing thought.

Julo turned back to her, and paused with a frown. "Um, Ship Mistress?" He attempted to bite off chuckle and failed. Lumeria glanced down and realized she had unclenched her fists, her fluorescent orange claws stark against the dark metal of her chair, seemingly glowing with a life of their own. Julo collapsed into uncontrolled laughter, and a few seconds later the others on the bridge looked to see the source of his mirth and joined in. Lumeria studied the color with a resigned look.

XXXXX

Zakl started to step out of the lift and then paused. He gulped and leaped back inside, hurriedly punching the buttons for all of the levels in an attempt to make the doors close faster.

Right as they were about to snap shut, a hand grabbed one and they bounced open again, and the Ship Mistress herself stepped dramatically into the lift beside him, smiling at confused passersby who no doubt thought it odd that one of her rank would go barreling down the hall and leap into a lift when another would be along in a moment. As soon as the doors closed, she whirled on him. Zakl staggered back against the wall, offering a nervous grin.

"Explain this. Now." Her orange eyes were livid as she flung one hand out to him, all four claws smoothly painted an unbearably bright orange. Zakl studied them with true curiosity for a moment: he had yet to see the end result of the humans' handiwork. The humans really had done a good job.

He refused to allow his face to transform into the cocky grin it wanted to flash. "Why that's…very nice. Ma'am. Matches your eyes."

The hand clenched into a fist. "How do I get it off?" The voice was ground out from between clenched mandibles.

He allowed his face to grin—the muscles ached from holding it in anyway. "What makes you think I know?"

"Because I know it was you, and if you don't tell me _now_, your trip out the airlock will become my immediate priority."

Zakl shifted his weight from foot to foot, pierced by her glare. The Ship Mistress cared about her men more perhaps more than any other Sangheili. She was willing to die for them, to fight through impossible odds. He had never seen her pushed to her limits before, but he had no doubt that right now he was on the very tip of a precipice and losing his balance. He could not detect any insincerity in her voice. "You know, I might just know of something that might help. Can you wait just a few units?"

"You have five."

XXXXX

Avelyn was surprised to see Lumeria waiting for her in her quarters that evening. Surprised is a mild term; she nearly jumped out of her skin when the Ship Mistress seemingly materialized. With a shriek, she fell back against the door, then composed herself, a hand on her chest.

Her cheerful smile dissolved when the Ship Mistress held up the plastic container of nail polish remover in one hand—her claws were a discreet black again—and the vial of orange nail polish in the other.

"Oh," Avelyn said, fumbling behind her for the button to re-open the door. "Right. Uh, I can explain that—"

"So it _is_ yours."

"Um…Melissa's, actually. No idea how Zakl possibly got his hands on it—"

"And just how would you know it was Zakl who did it?" Lumeria stepped forward, and Avelyn searched for the door release more frantically. She blinked when the nail polish vial was abruptly thrust into her hands.

"I assume you have others?" Lumeria inquired, and then continued before Avelyn could answer. "I expect to see Zakl's claws no longer black tomorrow." Avelyn stared down at the glass vial, then up at the Ship Mistress in disbelief. Lumeria extended the hand gripping the nail polish remover, but as Avelyn reached to take it, she closed her hand and flexed her fist. The bottle popped between her massive fingers as the transparent liquid spilled out to drip down her hand. Avelyn swallowed, unsure if the Ship Mistress simply wanted to destroy the bottle or was displaying her strength, but either way she accomplished both extremely effectively.

The liquid's pungent odor filled her nostrils as the Ship Mistress dried her hand on the front of Avelyn's uniform, then she grabbed a fistful of the fabric and casually lifted the human off her feet and removed her from in front of the door, regally exiting. The lieutenant stared after her in shock.

"I must be dreaming…"

XXXXX

Poorly concealed laughter followed Zakl as he walked down the corridor the next morning, hands clenched into fists at his sides. The claws on his fingers were each painted a different ridiculous color, from neon green to blue to pink to yellow to purple, hidden well enough against his palms.

He was late for his shift, and that was all that kept him from snarling and attacking those who snickered as he passed. He had frantically searched his quarters, but his boots were no where to be found, and thus he stalked bare foot to the bridge. Which would not have been so bad except that they were painted a very bright orange that seemed to be extremely close to the color which had decorated the ship mistresses' claws the day before, though hers were now their usual black again.

XXXXX

Avelyn heard barely contained laughter and looked behind her in time to see Zakl stalking down the hall. With a slight yelp, she dove behind Rydl, who tried to turn to see what she was doing, curious and concerned. She shushed him and pushed him until he turned around again.

Rydl watched Zakl stalk past, noting the obtuse color, working hard to keep his features blank as he put two and two together. As soon as the lift at the end of the hall closed, he exhaled, letting a chuckle out with it. "You can come out now."

Avelyn peeked around his elbow and then slid out from her hiding place behind his bulk. She heaved a sigh of relief, glancing at the closed lift door.

Rydl observed her actions and glanced at the door himself. "Lumeria is a genius," he started nonchalantly, "to have been able to find what he used and obtain it so quickly. I have never seen the stuff before. Surely it's not Sangheili...?"

Avelyn shrugged, inspecting her own nails.

"You are positive you had nothing to do with this?"

"Positive."


	2. Out of the Blue

**Author's Note: **This one-shot was inspired by and is a response to the fic _Wrath's First Christmas,_ by Avisu. I recommend reading that first. Also, I followed Joseph Staten's example in _Contact Harvest_ for writing AI. There is no way I could have concieved the idea of algorithms on my own.

The Prophetess of Wrath belongs to Avisu, the Chieftain Exilius belongs to Exilo. Both are used with their permission. Kazanna is mine.

**Genre:** Friendship

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Halo_.

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**Out of the Blue**

If there was one thing Kazanna had learned about the San'Shyuum known as the Prophetess of Wrath, it was to expect the unexpected. Not having had much experience with that particular alien race—hardly surprising after recent events—the artificial intelligence could not say for sure that the young female was exhibiting normal behavior for a San'Shyuum her age or not.

In truth, the AI had nothing against Har—as she _insisted_ her friends, a term which seemed to apply to everyone, call her. In fact, while she found the San'Shyuum a fascinating specimen, her childishness also awoke an old protective instinct buried deep inside Kazanna's memories from the mind of the woman she had been created from.

As dangerous as she knew it was—dwelling on such emotions more often than not led to rampancy—Kazanna was _attached_ to the young female. Perhaps that was where the mountains of patience she possessed when dealing with what should have been an irritating youngster came from. She simply could not find an iota of annoyance or anger—though her algorithms quickly helped her sort these feelings out whenever they occurred—where the San'Shyuum was concerned. Wrath never knew it, but while Kazanna was able to track the whereabouts of her crew aboard the vessel—and often did, if for no better reason than to more quickly deliver messages—she kept a special figurative eye on the young San'Shyuum, who turned out to be the only member on board who could give the AI trouble with that. She spent more time tracking the aftermath of where Wrath had been than the San'Shyuum herself.

Though the prophetess had the Jiralhanae Chieftain Exilius quite tightly wrapped around her finger—the most capable body guard aboard the vessel—Kazanna assumed a quiet, but near constant, vigilance. The Brute was, after all, only an organic, and, unlike herself, subject to the injuries that befell a physical body. Should he fail, Kazanna would not let Har come to harm. In fact, seeing as how the prophetess doted on her loyal guardian—and because his presence helped her accomplish her task—Kazanna extended that protection to the green armored Jiralhanae as well. Her algorithms pressed her not to dwell on such ideas, but something at the center of her being remained steadfast in the sentiment.

Further, it was refreshing to have a subject so eager to talk to. The prophetess possessed a passionate thirst for knowledge that Kazanna could relate to, wanting to learn _everything_ possible about her new roommates, a sentiment which the AI returned, thus their conversations were never dull, and the AI had gleaned immense information from their interactions. Hence, the relationship that formed between AI and San'Shyuum was not a bad one.

She really should have seen it coming.

Her first clue was that the San'Shyuum spent an unusual amount of time in her own room, alone, long enough for the AI to discreetly check that she had not fallen ill. This again was a common practice that she employed with any members of her crew, despite the knowledge that such possessiveness could also be a sign of rampancy, though she reasoned that it was only her duty to ensure that the ship continued running at peak efficiency.

The next hint was the flurry of movement as the San'Shyuum began racing around the ship, much more energetically than was usual, such that when she reached the bridge, Har was across the floor and tapping on the platform before the AI could activate her hologram.

In a whirlwind, she smoothly deposited an envelope on the holo-projection platform, catching the AI by such surprise that she could do no more than blink and gape at it before comprehension settled in, and the AI could only laugh silently at herself for not having been expecting it as she gazed down at the Christmas card addressed to her.

Of course. Today was the 25th of December.

She mentally berated herself for being surprised, having been preparing her supply of subduing sleeping gas to quell any holiday parties that got out of hand. The crew had even decorated the ship. Normally regulations prevented such things, but even on full military ships such situations often ended with a crewman or more in the brig, and as this was a scientific vessel, with an interspecies crew, which thus far had a history of needing such treatment…she would not be worth the title of a Fourth Generation Smart AI if she wasn't prepared.

Still, not having had a childhood filled with memories of Christmas mornings, she had never applied the holiday to herself. It was simply something that kept the morale of the human crew high, and she had adopted wishing them a Merry Christmas as a way to add to the festivity. It had never meant anything to her. She gazed down fondly at the white square, the orange light from beneath the envelope silhouetting the card folded inside, the only one she had ever gotten.

Her algorithms were insistently sending alerts with an increasing warning, and she allowed herself to listen to them, settling her whirling feelings before dismissing them.

The captain—finally reacting to her call for assistance—reached over then, lifting the envelope, grinning slightly as he read the cover. "What shall I do with this?"

"Open it, please," Kazanna answered, and quieted her algorithms by reasoning that it would not do to hurt the San'Shyuum's feelings and risk the peace the races had formed.

Amused, the captain did as she asked—ripping the top more than she would have liked—and compliantly held it up before her, allowing her to read the carefully written—if untidy—note that Wrath had inscribed. If she had had limbs, a warm feeling would have spread through them. Kazanna was touched.

"Thank you, Captain," she said, glad that, unlike humans, she could control what her voice sounded like, for had she been organic, it would have been thick with emotion. He dutifully refolded it and reinserted it back into the envelope, pausing as he tried to figure out what to do with it. "Just leave it here," the AI lightly answered his unspoken question. "It's not harming anything."

He nodded and replaced it, turning to return to his duties—as did the majority of the crewmen on the bridge—and Kazanna glanced down at the unexpected card again.

As an AI, and not confined to a physical body, therefore able to, at times, transcend space, Kazanna was not accustomed to being caught off guard or surprised by anything. She did not appreciate the unexpected—a trait from which most of her annoyance with organics as a whole originated from—and hence her enthusiasm to handle most tasks herself. Anything unexpected, unforeseen, unanticipated, unpredicted, or without warning was—while perfectly within her power to contend with—an unwelcome figurative headache to her, and just one more event that demonstrated to her just how much more ideal an AI was than an organic.

Yet this out of the blue card nonchalantly resting on her holo-platform completely defied this principle about the unexpected, because Kazanna found that she liked this unexpected surprise.


End file.
